


Flekh eh Vaksurik

by oddegg



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the reboot kink meme. Prompter wanted something inspired by the song "Strange and Beautiful" by Aqualung.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flekh eh Vaksurik

**Author's Note:**

> The title is 'strange and beautiful' in Vulcan. I am such an enormous geek.

_I've been watching your world from afar / I've been trying to be where you are_

Jim starts looking up relevant files in his down time pretty much as soon as they hit Earth side.

At first he tells his self that – hey! the guy's going to be part of his crew (and he'd known that was going to happen as soon as he'd known he'd got the Enterprise as his command); he needed to know a bit more about him.

He ignores the small voice inside that tells him reading through his new First Officer's personal records would have told him everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to know as Captain at any rate. That studying every iota of information about the culture and language of Vulcan wasn't necessary.

He'd never really bothered with Vulcan in his xenolinguistic lessons. At the academy and beforehand he'd mainly based his studying choices on which languages would best get him laid – and there had been whole new galaxies of languages to use out there. Vulcan had never seemed like a good runner in that category at the time.

After the whole debacle with Nero – after meeting Spock… Well. That delineation hadn't been as exclusive any more, however much he'd prefer to think so. Suddenly he was learning the Vulcan prepositions for things that he would never – speaking as Captain – need to know.

And – again, speaking purely as a Captain – he didn't know why.

He knows enough not to ask Uhura for help with it though. The woman's not stupid, so very far from it, and Jim's afraid that if he asked she'd see something in the request he didn't want her to see. Didn't really want to see himself.

The first anniversary of Vulcan's destruction occurs when they're half a galaxy away from either the original placing of the planet or the coordinates of the new Vulcan colony. They're in the middle of a delicate negation of dilithium mining rights with a planet on the outer rim of a remote sector of space and most Captains in his position would have, _should_ have, been occupied fully in the mindset of the species they're engaged with but Jim…

They had seemed to have a breakthrough at the last round of talks and Jim knows he should be in his rooms considering his strategy for the next stage but now, for this moment, he is at the doorway of one of the ship's observation rooms, watching his First Officer.

Spock is in front of the large window looking out at the stars and there is nothing – nothing there – that would or should engage Jim's attention but… But. He drifts silently forward and looks at Spock's face. Looks at the bare, frozen expression of his second in command and all he can see is opportunities lost. Moments grasped for too late.

_S'ti th'laktra_

The words tremble there in his throat but he can't force them past his lips. Not in the face of that empty, all-encompassing calm.

_'I grieve for thee.'_

How could he have the audacity to say that? He doesn't have that much courage in him. He is not family to Spock. He is not equally bereaved. There is nothing he could or can say to remedy this situation. He watches with Spock as the stars pass by them, unmarked and unnamed.

 

* *  
_And I've been secretly falling apart / Unseen_

He does his job. Whatever comes by him, whatever he has to deal with. He does his job. And he enjoys it, he does. Honestly.

He doesn't long for that added deeper, logical edge to his understanding of interactions with other cultures; whatever his taste of it on Delta Vegas may have shown him.

He tells himself he doesn't long for anything. That there's nothing missing in his life. That he doesn't mind as Uhura gently touches Spock's hand after they transport back from missions. Doesn't go back to his room and sink down on his haunches and gasp – _ache_ – for someone who understands him like that. Why would he? He's James T. Fucking Kirk, after all. Why would he care?   
He tells himself he doesn't, and hears the lie in his own mind as clear as day.

 

* *  
_To me, you're strange and you're beautiful / You'd be so perfect with me_

He learns how to meet Spock's eyes brightly, with his own clear and full of nothing but friendship – and deceit. Trains himself to keep the glances that caress over Spock's skin down to a minimum, and to keep them sidelong. Learns how to get a whole days watching from just a few moments, how to burn every second into his mind so that he can close his eyes at night in his quarters and see strong bones and pale skin, see deep, dark eyes that gleam with curiosity and a finely etched mouth that wants to smile more than it's owner knows.

He can see so much in every tiny nuance of Spock's expressions now. Knows him down to the bone and possibly better than Spock even understands himself, because Jim's intelligent enough to understand the logic of the Vulcan side of his First Officer, but Spock's not as good with his messier, emotional, human side.

So Jim watches, hidden, and saves up every new bit of knowledge and every new quirk of that fascinating face. And he can't help wanting to snap at Uhura when she sits down and starts talking to Spock in the mess hall, because can't she see that he's annoyed because the lab experiments he's been working on are not giving him the answers he was looking for? That he just wanted to sit quietly and think, like Jim was letting him?

And even as Spock puts down his glass and turns politely to face Uhura, Jim can see the faint small shadow of a frown on his face and he wishes that in this Spock would be logical. That he'd see what was at his side instead of what was in front of him.

 

* *  
_But you just can't see / You turn every head but you don't see me_

He knows that wanting someone's relationship to fail is wrong, and bad and, quite frankly, a bit sick. So he curls himself inwards as they return from Pyraxia-15 in crisis, in pain and suffering from some voodoo-alien-whammy that the tribe's chieftain had hit them with. Tries to ignore the vocal voice that had screamed at him as soon as he'd heard the spell that _'The one who understands your heart'_ is **HIM**, damn it! Not Uhura.   
But some small, incredibly petty part of him can't help but feel anything but glad, glad, _glad_, that – unlike the rest of the away team – his second in command's uncomfortable, semi-painful writhing hadn't been soothed when his romantic partner touched him. That – after Sulu's comforting by Chekov, and Scotty's by Ensign Rand – Spock had finally shown how much his Captain meant to him. Even unwillingly, it had been better than nothing.

 

* *  
_Sometimes, the last thing you want comes in first / Sometimes, the first thing you want never comes_

He knows, somehow, that he is the more cognisant of the two of them, that something about the way the curse was working on Spock was interfering with the Vulcan's logical thoughts. He's aware of Hikaru and Scotty getting better and leaving the sickbay even through the burning in his own limbs and he hears Spock cry out – _'S'yontua!'_ – and knows that Uhuha is there but that her touch doesn't help, doesn't ease Spock's pain. And some small, separate part of him understands what he is doing, what emotions he is exposing when he moves – not able to do otherwise – to grasp his First Officer's hand in his. When he feels, as though it were in his own body, Spock's thankful, helpless acquiescence of his touch.   
Jim never wanted this to be forced; never wanted this to be anything other than an open-eyed, consistent progression that would mesh scientifically with the Vulcan's concepts of how the world operates, but circumstances have forced this upon them and he can't feel anything but joy at the open, free touch of Spock's mind against his.

He had wanted this to be logical. To be coherent. But that tight, all-encompassing sensation that was Spock's thoughts of _'wantneedhavetake'_ wrapped around any notion he had of holding back and rattled through every nerve and synapse until there was nothing of him that didn't want to echo and merge with the foundation of all that Spock was. Until everything in him was resonating with the feeling of _'this – yesyesyes – this – oh Jim… want, havewanted, alwaystonow, alwaystobe, this, right/correct… perfect…'_

Until he didn't even notice when Uhura left. When Bones and everyone else left. Until all that there was was him and Spock. All that there ever would be.

 

* *  
_And I know, the waiting is all you can do / Sometimes... / And when I wake you / I'll be the first thing you see / And you'll realise that you love me._

Jim never managed to get to sleep, in spite of Bones' half-acknowledged threats about hypospraying him if he didn't.   
The CMO had come in to their curtained off area of sickbay during the night, but all it took was one look from Jim to send him off away again – muttering, _'Damn it, Jim – why him? I'm a doctor, not a romantic consultant'_ – and so he'd stayed there; awkward and uncomfortable on the edge of his First Officer's bed, as the planet's main star filled the sickbay's viewing window and sent rays of light into the room to illuminate Spock's face and create shadows and highlights under the Vulcan's cheek and brow bones that caught Jim's attention and held it so he didn't even notice when Spock's eyes opened.

And he didn't have even a seconds caution before he reached out; with caressing fingers, mind, all that he was, and heard, hesitant, in his head, Spock's voice –

_'…T'hy'la'_


End file.
